Chapter Text
samstag - twilight
Elise’s shoulders ache.
She’s spent much of her Saturday at the whims of Miss Wilma – scrubbing the mahogany floors of her inn from tip to toe, until she could see her face reflected in each varnished floorboard. The windows, too – they ran roof to floor, and reaching the very tippy-top of them had Elise straining every muscle in her body to reach. She only barely finished before the sun set; negotiating payment with Miss Wilma’s conservative disposition took another half-hour or more.
By the time she’s reached the outskirts of Kieferberg, the world around her is pitch-black. It doesn’t bother her, though she’s sure the townsfolk would prefer it did – they’re old enough to remember when there were actually things to be afraid of out in the woods.
“Here,” Lebkuchen snickers as she hands over a portion of the bakery’s daily leftovers. “Try not to get eaten on your way home, hm?”
Elise is ever-grateful for Lebkuchen’s contributions to her dinner table; it’s a big relief to know she’s always going to have something to eat, even if it is day-old bread. The townsfolk are relatively stingy with their tiffel so some nights – unfortunately – Elise has gone to bed with a hole in her stomach.
Nonetheless, she rolls her eyes. Lebkuchen believes in superstition about as much as she does (which is to say – not in the slightest) – but the poor girl does have the responsibility of at least keeping up appearances. Being the town’s only nun is no easy task, no matter how she might slice it.
They part ways quickly tonight – the wind rolls through the town at breakneck pace, battering the trees and sending loose twigs and leaves flying all about.
“Elise?”
She’s barely made it the crossroads when the flickering light of her lanterns meets another; and two more appear besides. Bernhard, Ludwig and Heinrich encompass tonight’s patrol; light glints off the metal of their pistols each hold in their hands. Elise keeps a sigh held back in her chest – frankly, she’d sooner be on her way than endure a lashing from these folk.
“Are you on your way home, lass?” Bernhard asks, lifting up his lantern as if to make out her face. “It’s terribly late.”
“You know better than to wander about in the dark, Elise,” Ludwig chips in, stepping forward. “It’s dangerous out here.”
The sigh escapes, despite her best efforts. The three of them are well-intentioned, it’s true – but there’s no real point to their little patrols. She holds her lantern up, too – Mister Bernhard’s face is equal parts scolding and concern.
“I was working late tonight,” she says, giving them her best glower, and a curtsy to boot. “Miss Wilma had me working like a dog, if you’d so kindly believe.”
Bernhard sighs, and Ludwig exchanges a look with Heinrich that rises anger in her chest.
“Working late aside, you know better than to put yourself in danger, Elise,” he says, stepping forward.
“What danger!?” Elise’s exasperation gets the better of her; for a moment she stomps her foot and raises her voice, before catching herself. Ludwig raises an eyebrow; Elise coughs, and restrains herself. “Has your hunt found any prey tonight?”
“Elise, that’s beside –”
“Then my point stands,” she says, firmly. Ludwig and Bernhard share a look of frustration, but Heinrich – ever amiable – laughs, despite the other two.
“You know we have good reason to worry, Elise,” he says, placing a rough hand on her shoulder. “Come, let us walk you home.”
“What reason is there to worry?” Elise brushes his hand off her shoulder and folds her arms. Her lantern creaks. “We haven’t seen or so much as heard a wolf near Kieferberg since I was a tot!”
Ludwig sighs, clearly eager to move on. “We patrol to keep it that way, lass. You’d do well to get yourself a gun – you know Gustav has a spare.”
Elise frowns, tilting her head in the direction of the town. Leave, then. “I think I’ll be just fine as I am – much grace for your concern.”
Bernhard shakes his head, but the three of them seem to agree to leave her be; Elise watches them vanish beyond the town’s perimeter.
It’s just ridiculous – wolf that, wolf that – everyone in Kieferberg seems rather obsessed with the idea. Elise has only seen the wolfskin that Wilma keeps on the inn’s back wall – she’s never had the misfortune of seeing one in person, and with any luck, she never will.
As if to scold her for being so nonchalant about the matter, the wind picks up something fierce – howls and screams and whips about her ankles, gusting debris of all kinds at her. Elise braces herself against the fence alongside the little dirt path; when she opens her eyes as the gust dies down, her lantern’s breathed its last, leaving her entirely in darkness.
“For goodness’ sake…” she curses at nothing in particular, lifting up her lantern in dismay. The embers provide little to naught in the way of light; she’ll have to return home without it. It’s her own fault, really, for leaving her tinderbox at home.
It’s not like she can’t find her way home without her lantern – she’s walked this way only a few thousand times. The moonlight is bright enough to illuminate the dirt path that leads through the woods and past the overlook – though Elise can’t make out the old windmill through the night. All she can see are stars, and a thick, murky black.
The wind howls again – louder, more aggressively, and Elise feels it rush past her, buffeting her and billowing her dress. The little brook she crosses to reach her home is lively; gurgling and hissing past the rocks with disdain.
It’s there that she sees her – standing just beyond the trees, touched by moonlight is a ghostly-pale woman with soft, gentle eyes. A black-white dress seems almost to float around her, touched by the wind as if it were only a gentle breeze instead of a whipping gale. A habit? She locks eyes with Elise – Elise holds the gaze, staring into her yellow-gold eyes, until she blinks, and –
Sharp, inhuman eyes stare back, entirely submerged in darkness. There was never any moonlight at all.
Elise leaps the river in one jump; her feet pounding the grass before her brain can catch up. Branches hit her as she breaks into a sprint – far from the river, into the grape grove, far, far, far away. She can hardly see the grapes from the grove – twisted moonlight touches the ground, only to illuminate pretty blue flowers that Elise narrowly misses crushing beneath her.
Her chest tightens – air ripped from her lungs as she reaches the limits of her stamina. Is she being chased? Is that thing – that beast – nearby?
Once in the safety of her yard – soft grass, the familiar shape of her humble cottage in sight – she breathes; checks behind her. Nothing – of course it’s nothing. Probably – almost certainly, it was a rabbit or raccoon or something. It could even have been one of the stray cats who slink around Kieferberg.
She sighs as she opens her door – seriously, what was she doing getting all worked up like that? Elise knows better than the let the wolf-talk of the townsfolk get to her.
Her guard doesn’t fall, however – something about her house, in the darkness, seems off. Things aren’t where she remembers them to be, and the back door is ajar – did she forget to close it?
Elise scurries up the stairs on her hands and knees; scrambling for where she left the tinderbox on the hallway altar. Lighting the fire reveals a crime scene – her granny’s plates, smashed on the floor; her pantry ransacked, her furniture tossed aside and one of the legs to her chairs snapped clean off.
For the second time, doubt throbs in her breast. Is Saint Walpurga punishing her for her lack of care? Is this karma come to deliver her from her egotism? No – no.
Just because the markings on the walls look like claw marks, doesn’t mean it was a wolf. More than likely, it was a burglar – judging by the mud all over her floors – or, even, one of the stray dogs around Kieferberg. They’ve always been friendly, but – this is far from town. Perhaps it wandered here and sought shelter from the storm?
The most damning piece of evidence in favour of it being a burglar would have to be the back door. Elise is sure of it – she wouldn’t have forgotten to latch it shut. It bangs horribly in the wind, and doesn’t close properly otherwise.
She places her bread on the table, and grabs her broom. Perhaps Ludwig was right. Maybe she should get a gun.
Running back to Kieferberg now won’t help, though – much of the town is likely to be in bed, if not already fast asleep. No, she has to make sure whatever it was that trashed her house is gone.
Lighting her lantern, Elise checks the backyard – dark shadows line her long-forgotten garden, but there’s nowhere obvious to hide. The woods don’t run for long before dropping into a sharp cliff; anyone hiding in them would almost certainly be made visible by her lantern’s light.
She makes her way up to the overlook, too, where the old granary sits. It’s the last place she can think of where someone – or something – might hide.
The wind drops quiet as she opens the doors to – nothing. Nothing but must, dust, and hay.
There’s nobody around. She’s alone. Whatever laid siege to her house is long gone, it seems. Much for the better, Elise thinks, the long-spent hammering in her chest taking it’s time to slowly wind down to nothing. The wind picks up again, screeching like it’s lost something.
Elise returns to her house and latches the back door – takes stock of everything that’s broken or bent. She’s lost three plates total – sweet ones, with little grape decorations. She remembers eating off these when she was young.
Two are ruined beyond repair, but – one of them, perhaps, could be saved. She knows Old Wilhelm is handy – maybe he could fix them? Clumsily, she tries to fit the pieces together as best she can. She can make most of it up with just three pieces – the rest are a lot smaller.
The rest of the house is in an equally dire state – mud and scratches all over the floor; her granny’s old weaving wheel snapped in half; one of the chairs at her little table has a leg snapped off – or chewed off? She can’t quite tell.
As some small relief, her pantry, while clearly messed with, doesn’t appear to be missing anything. A handful of eggs were broken – slippery yolk coats the shelves – but nothing seems stolen or otherwise ruined.
…still, it won’t be easy to clean all this up. Elise sighs – she’s tracked even more mud into the house just from going outside and searching. It’ll be a long evening before she’s done cleaning things up.
Her shoulders are going to kill her in the morning.